


The Phone Call

by brothersinsync (ceoriginal)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-13
Updated: 2014-10-13
Packaged: 2018-02-20 23:51:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,940
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2447621
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ceoriginal/pseuds/brothersinsync
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sam calls Castiel to tell him of the angel tracking system Charlie installed before leaving for Oz with Dorothy.  He learns an uncomfortable truth which he takes to Dean for confirmation.  The truth, maybe just this once.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Phone Call

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Vague Blogging Prompt](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/78308) by mooseandtrickster. 



> Betas for this fic: [messageredacted](http://archiveofourown.org/users/messageredacted/) and [eshcaine](http://archiveofourown.org/users/eshcaine/)

That phone call was a bad, bad idea. Sam lightly tossed the phone on the bed and rested his face in his hands, his elbows on his knees. After rubbing his eyes in frustration, he sighed and stood up, leaving his room in search of Dean. 

He found Dean at the shooting range, slowly squeezing off shots as he stood solid, facing the targets on the back wall. Dean glanced at Sam as he walked in, but then went back to shooting until his clip was empty. Dean removed his ear plugs and started to take his gun apart. Sam leaned against the doorway, one leg kicked out to the side, resting his weight on his back leg, and tried to work up the nerve to start this conversation. Dean shifted and spoke without looking at him.

“Spit it out Sammy.” Dean pulled a rag from his back pocket and started to wipe down the parts of his gun that had cooled enough to touch.

Sam steeled himself. “I spoke to Cas...” He trailed off and looked to Dean for a reaction. 

Dean paused but did not look round. “Oh?”

“I called him to talk about the angel tracking that Charlie set up...” 

“And?” Dean had still not resumed wiping and had placed the pieces back on the counter, standing a little too stiffly. 

“And he told me that you had asked him to leave.” Sam shifted the weight on his feet and stepped into the room, frustration showing in his face. “You told me he felt like he'd bring trouble down on us, so he 'had to split'.” Sam emphasized the last words, almost forcing them out of his mouth. He moved to stand next to his brother, leaning against the stall's divider wall and willing Dean to look at him. 

“So tell me, Dean, what's the truth?” Sam narrowed his eyes, his mouth tight. He watched Dean next to him, breathing. A quick inhale, which he held for a moment, and then a slow exhale.

“Thinking of a clever lie, Dean? Just tell me.”

The silence stretched out between them. 

“I can't!” Dean finally turned to look at his brother. Dean's eyes were sad and his face seemed open yet defeated. Some of Sam's anger melted as he stared into his brother's eyes. He had not seen this look on Dean in years. This was the face his brother wore when he finally told Sam what their dad did for a living all those years ago. When he confessed that John asked him to watch over Sam, or to kill him. When he finally spoke about his poignant experience in hell.

“Dean...” Sam reached out to his brother but didn't quite touch him. 

“I can't Sammy. I can't. I sent him away, but I can't tell you why.”

Sam pulled his hand back, sighing and looking to the ceiling before back at his brother, wanting so much to be angry. Dean's face fell as he moved back away from Sam slightly and placed his hands on his hips. He spoke to the floor now. “Please. Please.... just trust me. I know you're going to hate me for this later. I'm ready for that. But I can't lose you and this was the only way. Please.” He seemed on the verge of tears.

“What was the only way, Dean? Trust ME... Tell me...” Sam crossed his arms almost in defiance, refusing to let Dean's tears distract him from getting something out of Dean. Sure he trusted Dean enough to believe that he _thought_ it was the only choice, but Sam knew that was probably not the case and whatever it was, they could fix it together. 

Suddenly, Dean was no longer in front of him; was no longer in the room. He, himself, was no longer facing the same way. 

What had just happened? 

He would suspect Castiel of messing with time, but Cas was human and had been thrown out of the bunker by his brother. Sam took a deep breath and closed his eyes.  
He felt better than he had in months, had taken up jogging, and even thought of getting an actual “Hang in there, kitty” poster. Yet, this past month he kept losing track of time, sometimes minutes, sometimes more, but he knew something was wrong here. Why was he having these lapses? Dean was attributing them to the trials. Kept saying that they really messed him up even though there had been no evidence of anything physically wrong with him since he left that church. He just felt so good. And he had stopped the trials. They were not affecting him anymore. Right?

Sam moved towards the kitchen to find something to eat. He walked past Dean's room, but it was empty. The bunker was quiet as he moved through the halls, meaning Dean was probably gone. 

Fine. He could wait.

\---

A bowl of cereal and three chapters of _A Clash of Kings_ later, he heard the familiar engine of the impala echo from the garage as Dean arrived back to the bunker. Sam tried to keep reading but was distracted by the foot falls as Dean moved closer to the library where Sam sat. Finally, Sam felt Dean standing over him as he pretended to read.

“Zeke? We gotta talk.”

Sam looked up at Dean. “What are you--”

“--talking about?” Sam finished his statement before he realized he was standing now, the book placed on the table next to him, Dean halfway across the room facing away from him. 

“What the--?” Sam starting pacing quickly around the room, running his hands though and pulling at his hair. “What the hell is going on around here, Dean?” 

Dean turned to face him, watching him pace but not saying anything. That same sad, honest look in his eyes. Sam slowed and walked to Dean. “Tell me what you did Dean. I'm losing my mind...” Sam's face was a wash of anger. He nostrils flared and he was breathing through clenched teeth.

“Sam, I'll tell you. I will. But first, I need to know something.”

“What?” Sam snapped.

“Do you want to live?”

This threw Sam a little, but he did not let his anger abate. “What kind of a question is that?”

“I need to know, Sammy. If you were dying right now, would you try to find a way to stop it, or would you just accept death.” 

“You're not making any sense, Dean. I'm not dying. Why would I choose death?”

“The thing I did...it's because you were dying.”

“What? Shut up.”

“Zeke says you should have all the memories available if you look hard enough.”

“Zeke? Dean, I-”

“Just look. Please?” 

“Dean, I don't know what you talking about!”

“Remember Charlie was zapped by the witch? And then you came in the room? Or when you were in a coma in the hospital? Or-”

“I was in a coma? When? I don't remember...”

But he did. All at once, Sam realized he did have new memories, but had no idea when they happened. 

\---

He saw Dean in a parking lot talking to him, and though the words came from his mouth, it was not him talking back.

_And what will he do if you do tell him he is possessed by an angel?_

_“Well, he'll have to understand.”_

_And if he does not? Without his acceptance, Sam can eject me at any time, especially with me so weak. And if Sam does eject me, he will die._

_“Then we keep it a secret for now.”_

\---

Sam saw himself flick a demon across a room in the town Abaddon had led them to. Saw himself glow with bright white light. Saw himself hold the demons down with his mind as he cut them with an engraved knife.

Dean soon joined him in the bar. 

_“I was the one who talked Sam out of boarding up Hell. Okay? So every demon deal, every kill that they make... well, you're looking at the person who let it happen.”_

_You were protecting your brother. I am in Sam's head. Everything he knows, I know. And I know that what you did, you did out of love._

_“This is nuts. I mean, you're Sam, but you're not Sam, and normally he's the one I'm talking to about all this stuff. I'm trusting you, Zeke. I just gotta hope that you're one of the good guys.”_

_I am... But I suppose that is what a bad guy would say... Dean Winchester, you are doing the right thing._

\---

He saw the conversation that moved Dean to kick Cas out of the bunker. 

_If he stays, I am afraid I will have no choice but to leave._

_“Oh, no, you can't do that. Sam's not well enough. If you leave his body...”_

_I know. I am sorry._

\---

He ran through so many little moments of lost time in the last month and finally saw today. 

_“Please. Please.... just trust me. I know you're going to hate me for this later. I'm ready for that. But I can't lose you and this was the only way. Please.”_

_“What was the only way, Dean? Trust ME... Tell me...”_

He felt himself lose control of his mouth, of his body, as this “Zeke” took over.

_Dean, you cannot tell him. He will eject me. I could remove the memory of the phone call with Castiel._

_“No, Zeke. You can't. You can't wipe his mind every time he- No.”_

Dean moved towards the door of the shooting range and turned back. Ezekiel turned Sam's body watching him go. 

_Dean?_

_“Just let me think, you son of a bitch. Leave me alone, Zeke.”_

_As you wish._

Sam listened as Dean moved to the garage and drove away in his Baby before he felt the being inside of him slip into the background of his mind.

\---

The last memory he recalled was a few minutes ago.

Dean stood over him as he pretended to read.

_“Zeke? We gotta talk.”_

_“What are you-”_

Sam felt the angel move forward inside him again, encompassing everything.

_What is it, Dean?_

_“I've got to tell him. I've got to let him decide.”_

Ezekiel stood to face Dean, placing the book down.

_If Sam decides against having me inside of him then he will eject me and he will die._

_“Yeah, you keep saying that. It's not like Sam kicking you will hurt you. You can just go back to...whatever it was you were doing before you decided to go all good Samaritan on us.”_ Dean shifted uncomfortably, his eye darting around the room. He turned and walked away from Sam...from Ezekiel. _“Look, if Sam kicks you out and he- if he kicks you out...then stick around.”_

_Why?_

_“You saw him talking to Death. He will find a way to make it permanent. If he kicks you out, I've gotta try and convince him to... Just don't go anywhere yet, ok?”_ Dean did not turn to face Ezekiel as he continued. _“I'll do anything for that kid. But that's just it; he's not a kid, no matter how much I want him to be. It's been a month. He needs a say.”_

_As you wish._

Sam felt the angel recede, once again.

_“--talking about?”_

\---

Sam moved away from Dean to remove the temptation to punch him. Instead he went back to pacing, his long legs making quick work of the extended room before turning and walking back. 

Dean, for his part, didn't move as he watched Sam.

Sam fumed as he walked. How could Dean have let an angel take hold of him. After Meg? After Lucifer? Sam shivered at the thought of someone inside of him once again. Then he thought about Dean making decisions again without asking him, thinking it was for the best. How was this best? An angel able to control his body whenever it was convenient? He had been ready to die. He even remembered his conversation with Death. Would Death still be willing to fix it so that he could not be brought back? That no one else would get hurt trying to save him? 

He was suddenly tired, a viscous, heavy feeling in his body, fatigue pulling like lead at his eyelids. Sam moved down the steps to the crow's nest and sat at the table, leaving Dean in the library watching. 

Closing his eyes, Sam now looked inside of himself for this Ezekiel. He now knew what Ezekiel felt like and slowly surveyed the area in his mind into which he had felt the angel retreat. 

“Ezekiel? Zeke?” he thought.

The entity inside of him responded directly.

_Sam._

_“Who are you? Why are you hiding from the other angels?”_

The angel shifted something in Sam's mind and suddenly he felt like he was in a dream and before him stood Ezekiel. Sam looked around and saw that he was standing in a space of seemingly endless distance that was colorless and yet, as Sam looked at one spot, he could see amazing colors in his peripheral vision. The creature blended into it surroundings and yet Sam could see the angel clearly. Sam couldn't really tell what the angel looked like, but he knew it was who was in front of him. Such is the nature of dreams. 

_Sam, Ezekiel said again. I am here to help. Please believe me when I tell you, I will not harm you._

_“You want to help me?”_ Sam said.

_My mission as an angel is protecting those who would not and cannot protect themselves. I am protecting you, Sam._

_“But why?”_

_You have helped many people over the years. Now it is your turn to be saved. Sam Winchester, you deserve to be saved._

Sam turned from the angel in the dream, doubt and disbelief filling him. Pushing the vision away, he opened his eyes and went back to stand in front of Dean still rooted to the floor in the library. Dean stiffened as Sam came up to him, his eyes widening and his jaw clenched. For a long time Sam just stared at his brother, searching for something to help him decide his next action, knowing very well it could be his last. 

More than anything, Sam did not want to be controlled again. He knew this angel could be pretending to help them so he could learn about the “Winchester threat”. So many angels had lied to them both in the past. Did Dean really thing it would be different now? Even Cas had deceived them for almost a year. Who was Ezekiel hiding from? Would it just get them in more trouble? So much could go wrong and Sam would be at the receiving end of more pain and violation. Of course, the angel could really be here to help. They had not met all the angels, and to find another angel like Castiel, while unlikely, was a possibility. 

“Dean...” A sharp intake of breath passed through Dean's lips as Sam finally spoke to him. “I am...mad at you.” He spoke slowly and quietly. “I am, so, _so_ mad at you. You have no right to trick me into saying yes.”

“It seemed like the only way.” Dean offered his defiance softly. 

“So... Again. You thought I couldn't handle something, so you took over!”

“You would've never agreed to it, and you would've died.” 

“Well, maybe I would've liked the choice, at least.” Sam turned away from Dean.

“That's why I'm telling you now. I just wanted you to have time to heal a little. To give you a fighting chance. You have to see that this will work for everyone. Zeke can heal himself while healing you. You can't give up, Sammy. Why did you stop the trials, if not to live?” 

Sighing, Sam decided that he really did want to punch his brother, so he did, sending Dean to the ground hard. 

“Never again, Dean. You don't get to control me either.”

Dean nodded from his place on the floor. He gingerly touched the left side of his face, wincing, but did not attempt to stand. 

“Sammy...” 

Sam reached out a hand to help his brother off the floor. “But I am also, so tired. And now I can feel it.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Dean asked.

“It means that I feel better then I have in a long time, but now that I know where to look for an _angel_ ,” Sam spat the word, “inside of me, I can feel my own weariness and I know that it's just angel grace forcing this feeling on me. I don't want this, Dean.”

“This? You don't mean...” Dean's eyes misted even as his eyebrows lowered in confusion. 

“Dean, I don't want this angel in me. I can't. I can't, Dean.”

“Sammy, you'll die.”

“Yes.”

Staring into those green eyes, he hated himself for wanting to leave Dean alone. This was his big brother, who had always look after him. Who had raised him since he was six months old. Sam had watched Dean die so many times. It never got any easier, and he knew it would not be now for his brother. 

Sam said nothing but pulled his brother into a tight hug. Dean grabbed his brother back desperately. They stayed like this for a long moment. 

“I'm sorry, Sammy. I'm sorry.”

Sam rubbed Dean's back, whispering “It's ok, Dean. It's ok.” And when Sam finally pulled away he saw there were tears streaming down Dean's face to match his own. 

“Promise me something. Don't forget why we do this...what it means... We really do help people and it matters-- especially to them. Because it is right and good. You are good at this, Dean. You are good.”

Dean nodded to Sam and Sam smiled back. 

“Ezekiel. I want you to leave.” Sam's head fell back as an glowing white mist poured from his mouth and moved to hover near the ceiling, pulsing and rhythmically flitting among the lights. Dean immediately stepped forward as Sam collapsed to the ground, collecting Sam in his arms. 

“Sam, no. Don't do this. Come on- come on- come on. We can think of something. Just give me some time.”

“Dean. You had a month. You haven't even been looking.”

“I was trying to fix the angel problem...” Dean desperately 

“This _is_ our angel problem.” But Sam wasn't angry as he looked at his brother's face trying to memorize it. 

Without the angel grace, Sam could feel his body degrading to the state the trials had placed it in. His entire body hurt and he felt almost empty. Sam had been stabbed and shot and struck by lightning. He had jumped into a cage with an angel clawing at his brain. This time it was different. 

Dean smoothed his brother's hair. His hands moving rhythmically down Sam's face as his nose ran and tears fell from his eyes. 

“It's fine.” Sam muttered softly as his eye darted back and forth between Dean's own. “This is what I want. You've taken care of me my whole life. You don't have to do it anymore. We've helped so many people, Dean. We-” Sam gasped suddenly. 

Sam moved his hand to stop Dean's on his own cheek and held it there, closing his eyes against his own tears and speaking more softly. “You are going to be fine.” 

“No, Sammy. I don't want to do this without you. I can't--” The words caught in his throat. 

Sam weakly squeezed Dean's hand and moved it down to his heart. “You can, Dean.” 

Suddenly, Sam found himself standing even as Dean still held his body in his arms. He turned around to find Death standing there, tall and dark, leaning on his cane with both hands. 

“So, you are finally ready, Sam.”

“As I'll ever be.” He felt a strange peace he had not experienced in any other death. Sam turned back to Dean. Dean was now openly weeping, his head bent into Sam's as he held the body closer to him, shoulders shaking, eyes closed.

“Will he be alright?” Sam asked.

“Probably,” Death said in a low voice.

“Probably?!” Sam turned quickly, but Death's eyes were on Dean.

“Everything is some level of probably. Nothing is a promise. Your own ethos, especially during that whole Lucifer business, reflect this quite nicely.”

Death looked directly at Sam now. “Let's watch for a moment longer.”

Sam stood by Death now, watching Dean, neither of them speaking.

Dean gently laid Sam's vacant head on the ground and walked to the table. In a sudden burst of anger, he started throwing things from it. Lamps and books crashed loudly to the floor. 

“Zeke.” Dean yelled to the grace spinning on the ceiling. The light moved to swirl around his body. A high pitch dissonance smashing light bulbs as it intensified. “Zeke. If you really have seen everything, then you know. I don't want to be here without him.

Yes...”

As the light entered his brother's mouth, Sam stood in disbelief. He looked to Death but Death just stared impassively back.

“Why?” Sam asked.

“He's not dead, Sam. That's a start. Dean might have chosen this path now, but even he may heal in time. We _could_ go now, Sam.” Death motioned in the direction away from Dean. Sam looked at Death and silently asked for 5 more minutes. Death nodded and moved slightly away. Death was right, of course. Dean wasn't dead. Just strapped to a comet. Sam knew the feeling. It wasn't fun, even if it had been his choice in the end. 

Dean stood in the middle of the room, his eyes closed, his shoulders tight. 

“Can I talk to him?” Sam asked. “Just for a minute?”

Death nodded and placed a hand on Sam's shoulder. Dean turned to face Sam, nodding his head almost regally to each of them in turn as he moved to stand before them. “Sam. Death.” He stood a little too tall, walked a little too stiffly, and the eyes...

Dean was always such an emotional person even if it was usually rage. To see him so stoic...

“Dean! What are you doing? You're stronger than this.”

But Ezekiel was the one who answered. “I am sorry. Your brother has already locked himself away in his memories. I have tried to coaxed him out, but he recoils from the pain of your death.”

Sam took his anger at Dean out on Ezekiel. “If you hurt my brother, I will find a way back...” But he did not want to be angry the last time he saw his brother so he calmed himself. 

“I will not harm Dean. As I have said to you before, I am here to help. It is my mission.”

Dean had never given up on anything in his life. To give over his body to an angel...it hurt Sam deeply. 

“Fine. Ezekiel, do what you can to help him. Remind him that he will see me again one day. I will find him.” Sam in ghost form was unable to weep but his lip still trembled and his shoulders shook as he turned from his brother for the last time. 

Death released his hold on Sam's shoulders and Sam's form slumped. He stood staring at the floor for a few minutes before finally, straightening his back and walking away with Death, leaving Ezekiel alone with Dean in a bunker meant for more than just one. “I will find you, Dean,” Sam said without looking back.

**Author's Note:**

> First fanfic. Comments welcomed.


End file.
